Dinner
by Taylor Hayes
Summary: A series of Leverage drabbles. Mainly about the friendship/sibling relationship between Parker and Eliot. This has no end point in sight and I just add to it whenever I have an idea or something hits me as particularly Leverage-y. *grin*
1. Dinner

Dinner

a/n They're just SO DARN CUTE! I couldn't help it! I blame my sister, who bought the second season of Leverage. *laugh*

Eliot wasn't even surprised when he turned around from making dinner and found Parker curled up on the couch.

"Parker," he sighed. "What're you doin' here?"

She peeked over the back of the couch. "Hi, Eliot."

The infamous hitter continued mixing the chicken, blueberry and honey roasted almond salad. "_Parker_," his tone made it clear he wouldn't ask again.

The lithe blonde smiled, and didn't move. "I don't have any more fortune cookies, and I got hungry."

Eliot rolled his eyes. That was pure Parker.

And the obsession with fortune cookies was _weird_.

"Why couldn't you just go out an' steal some more?"

Parker frowned and glared, childish surprise in her voice. "_Eliot!_ We're supposed to be the good guys! And Nate said that means we shouldn't steal stuff unless we're working on a job."

"Okay, I get that," Eliot exhaled, pulling open the oven to check on the Honey-Mustard Tilapia with Panko breading. "But why'd you come _here_, instead of just goin' out and buyin' something?"

"I like your cooking." The completely honest answer brought a smile to Eliot's face. It always made him happy when the thief told the whole truth, without even seeming to consider lying. Parker stood out because of that tendency, but the childlike innocence was actually endearing. Here she was, the very best thief (possibly ever), who still saw the world with the excitement and wide-eyed innocence of a kid.

Eliot knew how much the job could twist people. So whenever the core of who Parker was and how she reacted didn't change, it made Eliot's heart lift.

"Congratulations, darlin'. That was the right answer," he chuckled, pulling out another plate and cup. "Now get over here and set the damn table."

He started reaching for the silverware drawer, but the thief was already there, grinning and holding up a knife, fork and spoon triumphantly.

Eliot laughed, and while she whirled around the kitchen, pulling out the salt and pepper, napkins, place settings, lemonade and salad dressing (all with far more familiarity to the kitchen then Eliot wanted to contemplate), he checked on the Tilapia again.

_Perfect._


	2. Only Parker

Only Parker

a/n So this is just another little Eliot and Parker OneShot, that kind of goes along with "Dinner". I was probably the only one who wondered about the beads Eliot started wearing in his hair at the beginning of the second season. So I'm making up the story behind it, 'cause I thought it could be really cute.

It was after a job had been completed sucessfully that she brought it up.

"Eliot?"

"Yeah, Soph?"

"I don't mean to pry, but I've been wondering about something."

He raised an eyebrow, and she went on.

"The beads in your hair. They look very familiar to me. Where ever did you get them?"

A little smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "You'd hafta ask Parker."

"What do you mean?"

"Those six months we were s'posed to split up and not see each other, I came back to my apartment in Chechnya and found a postcard and the beads."

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

Sophie was also smiling now, and shaking her head. Parker was simply Parker.

It was a little later that day, while Eliot was watching a game of football on the big screen, and Parker came in and perched on the back of the couch next to him, that he finally asked.

Without his attention really leaving the game, he said, "Hey, Parker?"

"Yep?"

"You know that postcard you left at my place, with the beads for my hair?"

"Yep. Why did you booby trap the fridge?"

Eliot gave her a look, and she shrugged. "Sorry. I just almost got shot with an arrow when I only wanted to see if you had any milk. Cereal isn't as good without milk, and it's icky with water."

"Parker."

She bit her lip, eyes wide, then spoke apologetically, "Sorry. Nate says I get distracted a lot."

"He's right. We were talkin' 'bout the postcard and the beads, remember?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Where'd you get the beads anyway, Parker?"

"Well, I wanted a necklace they had at this museum in Ireland. And then I decided it would be fun to take the tour and the guide was talking about these beads that warriors used to earn to put in their hair. And when she started talking about the warriors, and all the different stuff they had to do, and how they protected their families and their towns and stuff, I though about how you always protect us."

"Wait a sec. Are you tellin' me these beads are stolen? From some museum in Ireland?"

"Well, it was really easy. Getting the necklace was harder. Still not very hard, but the beads were just sitting out for anyone to take. And so I got them and just kept them in my pocket until I found out where you were. Then I just dropped them off."

Eliot shook his head in disbelief. And admiration. Only Parker.

She was such a kid, such a brilliant, talented child of a thief.

The idea that she had thought of him while they were all split up made him pleased, and a little, warm, glowing happiness grew in him.

Then he frowned. "We went to Ireland on a job last month and you didn't warn me I was wearin' FRIGGIN' STOLEN PROPERTY?"

Only Parker.


	3. Date Night

Date Night

a/n OneShot/drabble. Dunno how, dunno when, but Sophie will get her revenge. *evil giggle*

"Is this a date?" Parker asked.

Sophie and Nate spun to her with similar looks of complicated panic.

"What?"

"Why in the world would you think that, Parker?"

Parker sat on the counter watching them. "Well, Sophie said a date was when two people who like each other go do something together, and the guy pays for it. And Nate's paying for you guys to get in, and you're all dressed up and you like each other.

"Doesn't that mean it's a date?"

Nate was struck dumb, while Sophie tried to think of a way to explain without confusing the blonde thief.

Eliot didn't help when he started chuckling from his place in the kitchen, as he chopped up vegetables and checked on the pasta. "Sounds 'bout right to me."

Hardison turned around on the couch and added his two cents. "Don't worry, Mom and Dad. We'll be good while you have your date night.

"It's really touching to see a couple your age, with three kids, still finding opportunities to go on dates."

Nate rolled his eyes, but Sophie stomped over to glare at the smart-aleck hacker. "What was that about my age, Hardison?"

The grin died on his lips, and he started backpedaling as fast as he could. "I didn't mean- I mean, Sophie, you're totally still- It was just a- That was all- But it's not like-" His eyes turned to the amused audience in desperation. "A little help here?"

Parker was giggling and Eliot shook his head. "You got yourself into this. And it's somethin' I'm not gettin' in the middle to pull your sorry ass out."

A sigh pulled everyone's attention back to the mastermind. "Soph, you can defend yourself later. We need to go or we're going to be late."

After Nate and Sophie were out the door, and Hardison was worrying how Sophie would get payback, Parker looked at Eliot.

Stealing a strawberry off the desert, she asked, puzzled, "Wait. Is it a date or not?"

"It's a date, Parker," Eliot reassured her with a little smirk. Then he noticed the missing fruit. "Parker!"


	4. Paranoia

Movie Night

a/n Was watching the movie they reference, and I thought how about how the Leverage team would react.

"So, his whole life is a show?"

Sophie smiled, "Yes, Parker, that's the twist to it."

Parker glared at the screen, and then cuddled closer to Eliot. "I don't like it," she frowned.

Eliot put his arm around her and gave her a little squeeze, "'Don't worry, Parker. You're life's not a tv show."

"Yeah, but how can you be sure? I mean, that Truman guy didn't figure it out for forever. What if this is all a set up?"

He shrugged. "Come on, Parker. If this was all a tv show, we all would've been arrested a million times by now. Besides, how would they have shot that job we did on the airplane? Or all the ones we've done out of the U.S.?"

"Yeah. That makes sense."

She sighed and then bounced on to her feet, smiling again. "Did Nate buy any more of that fruity, dinosaur cereal?"

As she walked away, Sophie turned to Hardison. "I think it would be invigorating to live your life on some sort of television show."

Hardison shook his head, "You're crazy, Soph. That would just be way to much of my personal info all over the web."

Eliot agreed. "He's right. Who'd wanna be on tv anyway? Whole thing's made up. There's nothin' real about it." Stretching, he stood. "I'm gonna start dinner."

"And I got a horde of orcs to lead into the war," Hardison spoke up, reaching for his laptop.

Sophie remained on the couch and sighed. "Well, I still think it would be worth it."

"There's no more cereal!" came the yell.

"And I'm about to make us all somethin' to eat, so calm down!" Eliot yelled back.


	5. It Wasn't a Question

IT WASN'T A QUESTION...

a/n This is supposed to be right after "The Two Live Crew Job".

It wasn't a question anymore. Parker knew that Eliot would take care of her like no one else ever would. He was like the big brother Parker had never had. He protected her. And she loved him for that. She trusted him. Nate was so smart, and everything went so much easier when he was planning the jobs. Parker didn't like women, they were always looking at her like she had something wrong with her. Sophie wasn't like that. She was nice. And Hardison was funny. She trusted _all_ of them. And that was weird. But nice.

It wasn't a question anymore. Eliot realized that the team was more than his team, they were his family. And Parker, in particular, was like a crazy little sister. Maybe more. She was sweet and naive and happy. Parker was everything all the people Eliot learned from weren't. He was _glad_ to take care of her, to go out of his way to keep her safe. Hardison was annoying as hell, and Sophie was like a force of nature. Nate treated them all like they came in on the short bus. But he liked them. He was happy to work with them. He didn't work with people, but now he was interested in working with a team.

It wasn't a question anymore. Hardison knew that this was his second family. They were an amazing group of people. He couldn't deny that he had a little crush on Parker. It felt like the crush he had on Sheila, the girl who lived next door in elementary school, all over again. And the rest of them were awesome. He was happy to know them and have them in his life.

It wasn't a question anymore. Nate finally understood that his team wasn't just a bunch of thieves. They were people, good people, with talent and skills. They were important to him. Eliot was a brother, Hardison and Parker were his children, and Sophie... Sophie was important. She was the one to keep his feet on the ground when his ideas were flying off into the clouds. Sophie kept him grounded. And he was happy to keep giving them jobs so he could hold them together.

It wasn't a question anymore. Sophie loved them. They were more then she had ever had, and she didn't want to give that up. But she needed to find out who she was. She needed to know that they _wanted_ her there, instead of simply _needing_ her. Her choice was made and she needed to leave.


	6. Betrayal and a Bottle of Jack

Betrayal and a Bottle of Jack

a/n This is just something that came to me when I was considering Nate's drinking. This one isn't funny, it's angst and hurt/comfort. And it's set during Season One and gave one more reason for Nate to get his drinking under control.

They all knew it was the anniversary of his son's death. And they were just trying to help. Parker, in particular, wanted to make Nate feel better. But she didn't know how. So she asked him questions about his son, what he was like, what games he played, what his talents were. And at first, that was okay. And Nate answered, sadly smiling.

But he kept drinking. And the more he drank, the more he wanted to forget, the more Parker's questions were forcing him to remember.

Eliot was just outside the briefing room with Parker and Nate, and Hardison and Sophie were sitting at the meeting table when it happened.

Parker had asked what color his son's eyes were. And Nate remembered pounding on the hospital door, begging his son to open his big brown eyes and smile. And he never did. And all the rage and grief built up inside Nate, at everything. At how he lost his son, and his own company who he had given his life to had refused to help, and that now he was stuck working with a bunch of thieves, trying to make his life worth something, and he'd lost Maggie, and his little boy-

Parker repeated the question and Nate's hand flew.

The loud slap seemed to echo through the building. Everyone was shocked, including Nate.

Parker stood there, frozen, cheek red, her eyes filling with fear and hurt and tears. Then she bolted.

Nate could only stare after her. He had no idea what to do, and his alcohol soaked brain couldn't understand what he had just done to the most naive, trusting member of the team.

A hard grip spun him around, and Nate found himself nose-to-nose with Eliot, who had the look on his face that only appeared when he was about to beat the crap out of someone that thoroughly deserved it. His voice was a harsh growl. "You get this goddamn drinking under control, and you never raise a hand to _any_ of this team again, or we are gone. Got that?"

Nate could only nod.

Eliot continued to glower for a moment, then grabbed his jacket and the one Parker had left behind and hurried out the door.

The hitter knew the thief better then he realized, when he immediately figured out where to look for her. His walk was angry and threatened violence, and everyone moved out of his way, watching him carefully.

But he didn't notice. He was too focused on what had just happened.

Eliot was the fighter in the group. He had beat people to death with his own two fists before. But he would _never_ raise a hand to the people he cared about. It was wrong. It was taking your own weakness to strike out at someone who trusted you, smaller, weaker or less able to protect themselves. It was the most basic betrayal. If you had a problem, you dealt with it yourself, you didn't take it out on the people around you, who care about you and want to help you.

He was still lost in his thoughts when he reached the park. Eyes scanning the landscape, they finally landed on the tallest tree in the area. Walking over, he looked up and saw the familiar flash of blonde hair, and the quiet sniffling.

"Parker," he called gently.

There was no response, just sudden silence.

"Parker, darlin', please come down."

It was another minute before she did, climbing and swinging gracefully from one branch to another until she jumped and fell. She landed on the ground in a crouch, then sat down, back to the tree and wrapped her arms around her knees.

Without a second thought, Eliot dropped down beside her, draping her coat over her shoulders.

She pulled it on quickly, then returned to her protective position.

"It's bad to hit people you love," she finally said, voice stern through the tears. Then her eyes went wide and she stared up at Eliot with fear. "Does Nate not really love me? Is that why he hit me?"

Eliot shook his head. "No, sweetheart. He does love you. We all do. He's just drunk." The last word twisted with disgust.

"But Nate's always drunk!" she protested. "And he never hit me before. And hitting people you love is a really bad thing."

"Yes, it most definitely is." Eliot knew she didn't like to be touched in normal circumstances, so he didn't hug her. But he reached out and lightly brushed her hand, and she was the one who grabbed his tightly, glad for the comfort.

"Parker, Nate's got a drinkin' problem. We all know that. It sure as hell doesn't excuse what he did today, but it's a contributin' factor. He needs to get sober. Just watch, we'll get back and he'll start apologizin' like crazy."

She ducked her head and spoke into her pants. "I don't wanna go back right now, Eliot."

He squeezed her hand. "Than we won't, Parker. We can stay here, or go to my place and I'll make you some food and we can watch some movies. Does that sound good?"

The quick nod answered his suggestion.

Within twenty minutes after they arrived, they were joined by Sophie and Hardison, who had guessed where the thief and the hitter would end up. They all ate and talked and laughed and watched movies into the night, trying not to let what happened earlier destroy them.

And Nate sat alone, back at the office. The bottle was in front of him on the table, mocking him.

He looked around, noted all the ways that the place felt _wrong_ when the team wasn't all there. And he had never felt so lonely, with just him and the bottle of Jack.


	7. Trust and a Cup of Coffee

Trust and a Cup of Coffee

a/n Thank you so much all those who reviewed for the last chapter! That was a little overwhelming... But in a good way! As in, that's why I'm posting this so fast! Thanks particularly to **sararandom** who pointed out that this needed some kind of follow up. This may not be exactly what you were expecting, but it seemed right. So here it is, the "sequel" to Betrayal and a Bottle of Jack.

Nate was drinking.

He stared down at his addictive liquid and tried to figure out exactly what had happened.

The team had split up. He had called for it. Six months of no communication, for their own safety.

Looking into the drink, he remembered the betrayals that had led to the split. Yes, a large part of it was what Sophie had put all of them through while trying to get the David statues.

But it was before that. It was the day they never talked about, the day they all pretended never happened, when he had hit Parker.

Everyone except Eliot, who started giving Nate less subtle hints and more cutting remarks about the amount he drank. And who had started putting himself unconsciously between Nate and the team whenever Nate was particularly drunk.

Nate hated that. It made his stomach ache, made him want another drink, just seeing the way Eliot -the remorseless hitter, and protector of their erstwhile group- viewed Nate as a threat.

It wasn't until after they split that Nate finally realized he needed to make a choice.

That first day being back in Boston, it had hit him all at once. So many memories of growing up there stumbled back and forth behind his eyes, only to be replaced by memories of the team. Of Sophie's eyes sparkling as she snickered and Hardison looked dramatically hurt after making some exceptionally geeky remark, or Parker smirking after she'd pulled off an impossible theft, or Eliot watching them all with a contentment and peace in his eyes while he fixed dinner.

Nate missed them. And he didn't deserve them missing him.

That felt like a kick to the gut, completely knocking the breath out of him.

_He didn't deserve them missing him_.

So he had done the unthinkable: he'd checked himself -willingly- into rehab.

One of the first things they made you do, something he'd heard about but considered idiotic, was to apologize to the people you had hurt with your drinking.

The calls were simpler. A call to Maggie, and another to a few other old friends who had tried to help him through the worst of it, but eventually broke contact.

It took him three weeks before he finally managed to sit down and write the letter. He knew they would probably never read it, he might never even see them again. But he took it seriously.

He apologized for everything. For acting superior, thinking they were just thieves. They weren't- they were his family. Hell, they'd become his compass, reminding him what was right and wrong. Ironic, that it took a group of loners on the wrong side of the law to help him remember that.

Next, he admitted how gratefully he was that that idiot Victor Dubenich had pulled them together, forced them to work together. Because they had helped him recognize his weaknesses. Forced him to face his addiction.

In particular, he apologized to Parker. She had never brought it up, and kept treating him exactly as she always had, with the cunning warmth of the trouble making but brilliant student who sat in the back of the class, making inane comments, annoying and entertaining everyone all at once. The thief had never deserved that. Never would deserve the violence he had treated her with. It was something he would regret for the rest of his life. And he would never really forgive himself. He mentioned that he wouldn't ask her to forgive him, all the while knowing she already had. Parker was amazing like that.

He told them how hard it was. The last time he'd tried to sober up, when he had been stuck in another rehab clinic for a job, it had been hell. But at least they were there, trying to help, promising to get him out when it came right down to it. This time he was alone, and he knew he _couldn't_ let himself leave. It had been painful, and his moods had swung wildly form one end of the spectrum to the other. But even at his most angry, even when rage seemed to control him, he never lashed out at anyone. The memory of that day, of the sound and the sting of his hand, of those wide eyes staring at him in confused, hurt fear, of the way they all retreated, didn't want to be anywhere near him... He refused to give into that pain again and take it out on anyone else.

Nate had finished the letter, signed it and sealed it in an envelope. And they hadn't read it. They might never. But it was still a reminder of why he had to make it through. He kept it folded up in his wallet, and every time he wanted a drink, he'd pull out the wallet to count up bills, see the letter, and stop.

Now he sat in the pub, surrounded by temptation, staring down into his drink. It wasn't what he really wanted. And he still was proud that that cup was there instead of a shot glass. He was alone, except for the cup of coffee. But it felt like they were all there, supporting him, smiling and happy.

He and his cup of coffee sat there quietly, and he wasn't lonely anymore.


	8. The Small Price of Seven Days

The Small Price of Seven Days

a/n Back to the Parker and Eliot focused drabbles. This is just my take on Parker's acceptance of Eliot's physical comfort.

It had been a week.

They were stuck in the stupid train car for a friggin' _week_.

And why the hell was it takin' Hardison this damn long to find them and get them the hell outta here?

It had been a weird job. Something about a railroad company screwing up some family's pension plan over a mistake the company had made, but found a way to blame the conductor for.

Anyway, he and Parker had ended up in a boxcar as part of the scam. Then things had gone wrong.

The train wasn't supposed to be going anywhere. Hardison had assured them it was staying in the yard for another four days. That's what they'd been told. "No worries, guys!" had been the hacker's exact words.

The thief and the hitter hadn't been inside more then twenty minutes when the damn thing started moving.

Then when they tried to get out, the door wouldn't budge. It was like someone had padlocked it, or something. And the car they'd chosen didn't have windows, or even the damn hole in the roof that you always see in movies.

So they were stuck. And the train only stopped every so often, probably to refuel, or for the conductors to switch off. But there was no unloading, or opening of cars. Apparently the destination of the stuff being shipped was all the way across the country.

Which equaled a full week of being trapped in a boxcar.

Thank God Parker was crazy.

She'd been extra hungry that day, and so her backpack was full of fortune cookies, cereal, and her new favorite food - peanut butter and Eliot's peach jam sandwiches. There had also been five bottles of water. Why she needed all of those, Eliot didn't have a clue. But he was grateful.

Eliot had insisted on rationing the food, just in case. And Parker had quit protesting when he promised he would make her a peanut butter and peach, three-tiered cake when they got back to the apartment. Her grin had been huge.

It was day two, or rather _night_ two, that he'd noticed the blonde shivering.

It _was_ cold, but for some reason Eliot had always figured things like air temperature didn't affect the thief. Apparently he had been wrong.

He pulled off his coat and tossed it to her. Any other girl, he'd have scooted over and tucked it around her, but this was Parker. And she was not a touchy-feely person, at least not with guys.

Eliot could see her consider protesting, but in the end, in classic Parker fashion, she shrugged and pulled it on, zipping it all the way up and burying her hands in the pockets.

Half way through the fourth day, she moved a little closer.

It wasn't until the sixth night that he woke up in a rush, adrenaline spiking through him, his whole body going tense at an unfamiliar touch.

But whoever it was didn't move. Reaching over, he switched on his flashlight and was shocked to find Parker fast asleep, nestled into his side like a puppy.

He hated the circumstances, hated the cold, hated the fact that he had been eating nothing but dry cereal and fortune cookies for two days, hated the damn boxcar and the damn train. He hated the people who'd asked for their help, and he hated the people who'd screwed with the family, so they needed to ask for help.

At the moment, he had a hate on for the whole damn world.

But he couldn't help the smile that slipped silently onto his lips.

Parker, who hated to be touched, was tucked under his arm, sleeping like a baby. No longer shivering, just lightly snoring, the little smile on her face made his own widen.

Pulling her closer, in what could only be called cuddling, she ended up in his lap, with his arms wrapped around her and his chin on the top of her head. And he knew she was awake now, but she hadn't protested once. Instead, she moved closer, curling her hands up beneath her chin to rest on his chest.

It was in that position that they fell back asleep, and that Sophie and Nate found them in, when the two finally busted the hitter and the thief out twelve hours later.

Hardison ended up with a black eye and a trashed mainframe for screwing up.

But the next time they were all sitting down for a briefing and Parker scooted in at his side, slipping under his arm, he decided it was a small price to pay for her to trust him this much.


	9. Responsibility

Responsibility

a/n This one's another Parker&Eliot-centric fic. More hurt/comfort this time. And it's kind of toeing the line between sibs and E/P. I still dunno if it's gonna go there or not.

"_I'm_ the one who's s'pposed to get beat up an' hit! If someone takes a knife to the gut, it's me! If someone's goin' to get shot, it's supposed to be _me!_"

The team watched in alarm as Eliot raged back and forth across the apartment. In his anger, the hitter's accent became more pronounced, and his eyes were blazing.

"Dammit all! Y'all are s'pposed to stay out of the way an' let me handle the fightin'!"

Then a small sound of alarm came from the couch, and all of Eliot's rage dissolved into guilt. He hurried over to sit beside Parker, who he had finished patching up only minutes earlier.

She looked up at him, eyes shining with the tears she refused to shed. "Does it always hurt this much to get shot?" Her question was so simple, and the thief watched Eliot with absolute trust. And he wanted to shake that belief out of her. He had failed her, failed the whole team today. And because he wasn't fast enough, Parker had gotten _shot_.

The others hurried out of the room, recognizing that Eliot and Parker had something they need to work out, as he plopped down on the couch beside the small blonde.

"Yeah, Parker. It always hurts this much." He rubbed at his forehead, gesture rough with anger. He looked back over at the girl and took in the way she was biting her lip against the pain. "I'm gonna make it stop hurtin', all right, darlin'?"

She just gave a little nod.

He stood, reaching out to carefully scoop her up, his arms slipping under her knees and around her shoulders, take special care not to jar her bandaged left arm in its makeshift sling.

Retreating into one of the extra bedrooms, he laid her down on the bed. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay." Her voice was tiny and scared. "You'll come back, right?"

"Of course. Just sit tight. Gimme sixty seconds. You can count that down, right?"

That finally got a little grin. "Of course." She fumbled at her pocket, and he gently pulled her hand aside, reaching in and pulling out her stopwatch. Parker never seemed to go anywhere without it, as though she was constantly looking out for opportunities to see how fast she could pull a job. Every time they walked into a bank, out came the stopwatch for a few moments, until Nate shook his head. Ten there would be a little pout, but the timer would dissapear back into her pocket.

Now she grasped it like some kind of holy object, smiling down at it, then up at Eliot. Her fingers slipped to the button and she announced, "Ready, set… _go_."

He was back in forty-seven seconds with a bottle of the strongest painkillers he had. (The ones he never took, since he needed to be constantly aware.)

Handing Parker two of them and a glass of water, he said, "Drink up, sweetheart."

She did and everything became fuzzy to her very fast. Normal, it would scare her. But right now, it just felt too nice and warm, and the pain was gone. So she simply reached out and grabbed onto Eliot's hand.

Obediently, the tough man hooked a chair with his foot and plunked it down beside the bed, never releasing her hand. When he sat, he twined his fingers with her, knowing it would comfort her that she had a tighter hold on him.

As she started to drift off, her hand tightened on his for a moment. "Wasn't you' fault, y'know."

"What?"

A long yawn, and then a mumbled, "I thought I could take 'im. Couldn't."

"Parker-"

She shook her head a little, really more of a slight rocking to the left then right. "You al'ays there when ev'r I need you."

And the petite thief started softly snoring.

Eliot sighed, then leaned back, keeping his fingers locked with hers. In the end, he couldn't help but smile and whisper, "And I always will be, darlin'."

fin.


	10. Political Awareness

Political Awareness

a/n Am currently reading the book Eliot refers to. It's pretty interesting.

"Hey, Eliot?"

The hitter held an ice pack to his bruised cheek. "What, Parker?"

"What's a "daily llama"?"

Eliot turned all the way around on the coach to face the puzzled looking thief. "Huh?"

She flounced over to drop onto the floor by Eliot's feet. "I already asked Nate and Hardison."

"And what'd they say?"

A shrug. "Nate just poured himself another drink, and Hardison showed me something called The Llama Song. But neither of them answered my question. And I don't wanna ask Tara. I don't like her right now."

"Oh...kay," Eliot muttered in confusion. "Where'd you hear about this "daily llama" thing?"

"Someone at the convention we went to today was talking about how the "daily llama" ran away from Tibet."

Eliot finally understood. "Parker, they weren't talking about a "daily llama". They were talking about the Dalai Lama."

"The who?"

The hitter considered explaining, then finally shook his head. "Look, sweetheart, I got a biography you can read, or you can video conference Soph, and she can explain. But it's kinda… complicated."

"Oh." Parker stared at nothing for a few moments, and then jumped to her feet, smiling. "I'll call Sophie!"

As she skipped away, a thought struck Eliot. He was pretty sure that Parker had stolen the rosary the 13th Dalai Lama had possessed, and that the 14th Dalai Lama had been identified with.

So the question was, was Parker totally oblivious, or just looking for an excuse to call Sophie?

Eliot shook his head. Either way, it was pure Parker.

fin.


	11. Exit Strategy

**Exit Strategy**

a/n So this just popped into my head...

"We're supposed to do _what?_"

Eliot glared around as Nate's instructions sounded in the earpiece.

"_This is the only exit strategy left, Eliot. Find the helicopter and get up here! I asked, and Parker is sure she can fly it. Apparently she learned last year. You'll be fine._"

The hitter seriously considered fighting his way through two feuding gangas_ and_ the local police force, then dragging Nate and Sophie back out past the entire fire department.

Then he groaned silently and waved Parker forward, letting her lead the way to the chopper. And she was skipping.

Crap.

It was only when the thief buckled herself in the pilot's seat and grinned birghtly, messing with a couple dials and buttons, that Eliot finally thought to ask.

"Hey, darlin'?"

"Yes?"

"You told Nate you learned howta fly this thing last year, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, where exactly did you take lessons?"

A manic giggle. "Oh, I didn't take lessons. Hardison showed me this really cool SWAT video game, and one of the missions is landing a helicopter, saving the hostages, and then flying back out. It was easy!"

As the heavy, staccato sound of the helicopter's twisting blades buffetted the air, an impossibly angry yell was heard over the chopper.

"NAAAAAAATE!"


	12. Relationship Matters

**Developing Relationships**

a/n This series of drabbles is still going to be aimed at the Eliot&Parker dynamic, but we're taking a little trip into the mind of Hardison today.

Hardison watched his two friends interact and felt a little jealous.

Sometimes when the hacker hadn't been watching, Parker and Eliot had done an insane amount of bonding.

"So you throw it back and forth?" Parker sounded absurdly excited, as Eliot explained the next step in amking homemade ice cream.

"Yeah, Parker. We toss it to each other until it's done. Okay?"

"Okay!"

As the bag full of ingredients sailed across the room, Hardison listened in resigned envy as Eliot effortlessly teased the blonde, who kept bursting into giggles.

Hardison had had a crush on the cat burglar since the beginning, and had kept hoping she'd recognize how he felt. He knew he was pretty obvious about it all. But Parker never seemed to see.

On the other hand, the hitter had slowly slid into Parker's life. Hardison really believed neither of them noticed how strong their connection had become.

He knew that Parker hadn't realized that she constantly gravitated towards Eliot. If she was scared or sad, Eliot was there, arms open, to reassure her and keep her safe. If she was angry, the hitter would drag her to the gym and teach her a new take down, or find a classic safe for her to crack. If she was cold or tired, she'd climb onto the couch next to the hitter, and he wouldn't think twice about pulling her into his lap. It had become a regular thing to find the thief fast asleep in Eliot's arms, head lolling against his chest. And when the whole fiasco with Parker being captured and tortured was over, and she had disappeared- When not even the tracker Hardison had put in her shoe helped find her- Eliot shook his head and walked out, calling in to say that he'd found her less then twenty minutes later.

As for the hitter, he oriented his life around the blonde. And he also didn't seem aware of the effect she had had on him. He was always trying out new recipes he thought Parker would like. Or he would at least make one of the thief's classic favorite dishes with every meal. For that matter, Eliot didn't leave his apartment anymore without a few fortune cookies in his coat pocket, and an extra hairband in case Parker forgot hers again. In any situation where the team was in danger, Eliot had always taken the "good old Texan" approach of protecting the women. This had grown into the instinct to put himself between Parker and whatever threat they were facing. And the "keep your personal life seperate from your work, dammit!" man didn't even argue when Parker insisted on tagging alone with him after hte job was done.

Not to mention the use of affectionate nicknames (like "sweetheart" and "honey" and "darlin'") had increased tenfold.

Literally. Hardison had been counting.

Finally, with a silent sigh, the hacker decided that maybe it was time to bury his crush and just do his best to be happy for his friends.

Then his eyes tracked down to the online game he was playing, and he couldn't help the evil laugh that escaped. After all, if he could win an impossible war against an evil, wizard Hitler and his Nazi hordes of the undead, he could win over Parker.

Alec Hardison, Hacker Extraordinare, was about to start fighting for the love of his lady fair.

fin.


	13. Football, Jerks and Snuggies

**Football, Jerks and Snuggies**

a/n You know it would play out this way… *giggle*

"Eliot?"

The hitter didn't even look away from the football game. "Yeah, Parker?"

Snuggling closer, the petite thief pouted. "I'm cold. Why couldn't we watch this at Nate's?"

Eliot's mouth dropped open. "Parker, I got us two tickets to the _Super Bowl_. _Good_ seats. Sweetheart, we are literally 25 feet from the field."

Parker looked puzzled and unhappy. "So? If we were at Nate's, I could have cereal and you could make a yummy dinner. And we could sit on the couch instead of hard, cold, metal benches, and it would be _warm_."

Eliot stared down at the glaring blonde under his arm. Then it clicked, and he sighed. "What do you _really _want, Parker?""

Her grin was huge and blinding. "That snuggle blanket thing the guy behind us has!"

Peering over Parker's head, Eliot let out a tiny snort. "The one who yelled at you to sit down and said you were a hot, dumb piece of ass who belonged in a hotel, not a at a football game?"

The blonde's smile was still as innocent as ever, but her eyes were shining with a mean glint. "Mm-hmm."

Another roll of his eyes, and a nod, and Eliot was engaged.

By the end of half-time, Parker was cooing over her brand new, blue Snuggie, ignoring the small reddish-brown stain on one of the sleeves.

And Eliot sat beside her, one arm over the girl's shoulders, and a full pitcher of foaming beer held in his other hand.

They both thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the game.

fin.


	14. Manipulations, by Sophie

**MANIPULATIONS, BY SOPHIE**

a/n This is another one that toes the line between Eliot/Parker and the sibling-esche relationship. But it made me giggle, so…

"Parker?" Eliot almost choked on his tongue when the thief walked carefully down the winding, metal staircase.

Hardison had a similar reaction, dropping off his feet to one of the chairs at the dining table, mouth hanging wide open.

Nate raised an eyebrow at Sophie, who stood behind Parker, beaming victoriously.

The blonde girl blinked anxiously, worried about the odd look on the formally dressed hitter's face.

Eliot was dumbstruck. Parker looked stunningly beautiful. The pale blue dress clung lovingly to her form, gorgeous simplicity that showed off her toned arms and long legs. The black boots on her feet had tiny heels, and were laced up the insides. Pale gold hair was twisted at the nape of her neck, and her skin wore a soft, confident glow. Smoky eyes and blushing pink lips, along with the deep, cobalt sapphires at her earlobes and throat, finished the picture that Parker made.

Then she fidgeted, and classic Parker broke through the new image. "Eliot?" she asked, uncomfortable. "What's wrong?"

Shaking himself from his daze, the hitter smiled broadly. "Nothin', darlin'." Stepping up, he held out an arm, which she gratefully caught. As they turned, heading for the door, their eyes met: Parker confused, Eliot pleased.

"You look amazing, sweetheart," he complimented.

She stopped, eyebrows drawing together. Then he grinned appreciatively, and she flushed and smiled back.

"Thanks."

"No problem, Parker."

And they headed out on their "date", which Sophie had assured them was a necessary part of the con.

**fin**.


	15. Turkey Day

**Turkey Day**

a/n Happy Holidays, folks!

"Play dead!" came the order over the coms.

Distantly, the hitter could hear Hardison making a comment about "What are we, dogs?". And Parker made some kind of high pitched squeak, followed by the noise of dropping low. Tara muttered angrily about deviations from the plan.

But Eliot was more concerned with figuring out how to play dead, stop the bleeding from the stab in his shoulder, _and_ protect his team.

Then a frozen turkey dropped through the air and slammed into the back of the head of the thug standing over Eliot.

In shock, the hitter jumped to his feet, one hand clutching his wound, the other curled into a fist. And found himself looking up at a familiar thief's face.

Grinning as she peered down from the air vent, Parker shrugged. "Happy Thanksgiving?"

And Eliot couldn't help bursting into laughter.

**fin.**


	16. A Private Performance

**A Private Performance**

a/n So, in case you can't guess, I wrote this right after I watched "The Studio Job" for the first time. *giggle* Christian Kane is absurdly sexy.

After the job with Kaye Lynn and Kirkwood, Eliot had been expecting smart remarks from the team. Specifically from Hardison.

But he had _not_ been expecting to come back to his apartment and finding Parker sitting on his coffee table, hugging his guitar.

"Please? Please, please, puh-leeeeeeeease?"

He groaned and dropped onto the couch. "Parker-"

Then that adorable, too-innocent pout appeared on her sweet face, and Eliot surrendered to the inevitable. Taking the familiar instrument in hand, he spent a few seconds plucking and tuning as he considered different songs he'd been practicing.

Finally, he settled in to playing the first chords.

"_I still remember the look on your face, lit through the darkness at 1:58. The words that you whispered for just us to know. You told me you loved me. So why did you go away?_

"_I recall now the smell of the rain fresh on the pavement. I ran off the plane that July ninth. The beat of your heart, it jumps through your shirt. I can still feel your arms._

"_And now I'll go sit on the floor wearing new clothes. All that I know is I don't know how to be somethin' you miss. Never though we'd have a last kiss. Never imagined we'd end like this. Your name, forever the name on my lips._

"_I do remember the swing in your step, the life of the party - you're showin' off again. And I roll my eyes, and then you pull me in. I'm not much for dancin', but for you I did._

"_Because I love your smile, shakin' hands with your father. I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets, how you'd kiss me when I was in the middle of sayin' somethin'.There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions._

"_And I'll go sit on the floor wearin' new clothes. All that I know is I don't know how to be somethin' you miss. Never thought we'd have a last kiss. Never imagined we'd end like this. Your name forever the name on my lips._

"_So I watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep, and I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe. And I keep up with our old friends just to ask 'em how you are. I hope it's nice where you are._

"_And I hope the sun shines, and it's a beautiful day. And somethin' reminds you, you wish you had can plan for a change in the weather and time, but I never planned on you changin' your mind._

"_So I'll go sit on the floor wearin' new clothes. All that I know is I don't know how to be somethin' you miss. Never thought we'd have a last kiss. Never imagined we'd end like this. Your name forever the name on my lips._

"_Just like our last kiss, forever the name on my lips. Forever the name on my lips, just like our last kiss._"

As the song came to an end, Eliot finally looked up and froze.

Parker sat crosslegged beside him on the couch, pale and silently crying.

In a moment, the hitter put aside the guitar and was pulling the petite blonde onto his lap and into his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, and he gave her a little, reassuring squeeze. "Ah, darlin'. Sweetheart, I didn't mean to make you cry."

She shook her head slowly, then turned her face up to his. "Does it hurt that much to fall in love?"

Dropping a kiss on her nose, and another on her hair, he quietly answered, "Love doesn't hurt, Parker. Love's the best feelin' in the world. It's when love goes and dies on you that everything starts hurtin'."

Cuddling closer, tucking her blonde head underneath his chin, she slipped her arms around him and hugged the tough man as tightly as she could.

In the end, they fell asleep, curled together on the couch like puppies, taking comfort in each other's embrace.

fin.

a/n2 So, for those of you who recognized the song (and those who don't have a clue), it is indeed a bastardization of Taylor Swift's "Last Kiss". I changed it a bit, so that it fit a little better for a guy singing it.


	17. Curiosity and Love

**Curiosity and Love**

**Eliot: **You think you know what I've done? The worst thing I ever did in my entire life I did for Damien Moreau. And I-I'll never be clean of that.

**Parker**: What did you do?

**Eliot**: Don't ask me that, Parker. Because if you ask me, I'm gonna tell you. So please don't ask me.

-**The San Lorenzo Job**

Parker was not the type of girl to ignore things that she was curious about. It had never been her nature.

But for once, when Eliot spoke with a defensive, beaten voice about things he'd done in the past, things he regretted and didn't want them to know about, she listened.

She didn't ask.

She didn't get Hardison to see if he could find anything on line.

She didn't try any of the grifting that Sophie had taught her to trick it out of him.

She didn't ask Nate to help her plan a way to figure it out.

She didn't break into his apartment or steal his wallet or break into Moreau's compound for information or to see if there where files.

For once, Parker just left it alone. She didn't want to be the one to push Eliot over that edge that she could hear in his words.

Not that it would change what she thought about the hitter if she _did_ find out, no matter how bad it was. They all had pasts. And they all knew that Eliot's was full of violence.

But nothing she heard or read or found out would change the fact that Eliot protected her. Even when he thought she was crazy, even when he was in a bad mood or angry, he still always took care of her. When she was hungry, he made her food, and when she was tired, he made sure she went to sleep, and when she was hurt he fixed her up and made it better, and when she was sad he would give her hugs and let her crawl into his lap.

Eliot was just Eliot. To her, he would always be Eliot. Nothing would change that.

And none of it mattered anyway, because she loved Eliot and so she listened when he told her not to ask.

Parker was not the type of girl to ignore things she was curious about.

But one time, she let it slide.

fin.


	18. How to Force Your Boyfriend to Go Public

**HOW TO FORCE YOUR BOYFRIEND TO GO PUBLIC**

a/n My sister pointed out that it, in the third season, Parker appears to be wearing shirts she stole from Eliot and Hardison, then just messed with. I agreed. *griiiiiiiiiin*

"Parker?"

The blonde looked over at Eliot from where she sat on the counter. "Huh?"

A measuring gaze passed over her frame as the hitter considered the thief in annoyance. "…Are you wearin' my shirt?"

She started giggling. "Maybe?"

Eliot growled, and began stalking closer.

Which was when Hardison walked in, texting away on his phone, and took half a second to look up and nod at them.

Then he did a double-take and slowly smirked."Eliot, is Parker wearing your shirt?" he casually teased. "There somethin' goin' on that we should know about, man? With you and Parker I mean?"

Eliot snarled and turned back to the smiling blonde. "See, this is why I told you not to take my shirt with you this mornin'! Now everyone's gonna know! I mean, since when's Hardison known how to keep his mouth shut, huh? How is wearin' around my clothes keepin' this damn relationship on the down low, _huh?_"

She just happily shrugged, before hopping off the counter and into her hitter's arms. As he instinctively caught her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. "So does this mean we can kiss in front of everyone now?"

The hitter groaned, then a rueful grin escaped and he raised an eyebrow. "Are you tellin' me you planned this, darlin'?"

"Maybe."

"Nate's rubbin' off on you, sweetheart. And it ain't in a good way," he sighed.

Parker just leaned in and pressed her mouth to his.

When they broke apart, they finally noticed hardison collapsed on the couch, staring at the two of them in shock.

Snapping out of his daze, the hacker loudly protested, voice a high-pitched whine, "I was _kiddin'_, guys! _Kiddin'!_"

They shared a look, but in the end Parker started laughing, and Eliot groaned again. "Ah, hell. You plannin' on tellin' Nate and Soph about this?"

"Are you freakin' _joking?_" Hardison demanded. "You seriously think you guys can just spring this on me, and then I'm not gonna tell Mom and Pop? You're crazy, man. I'm gonna enjoy watchin' Sophie put you through hell to make sure y'all'll take care of Parker, y'know. And then Nate's gonna have some kinda psycho lecture that uses all sortsa comparisons that make no sense. I'm plannin' to tape the whole thing, and maybe stick it on youtube, man."

Eliot looked liked he was two seconds away from dropping Parker and breaking the hacker's jaw.

But the blonde recognized the violent impulse, and refocused the rising energy on something more "fun".

In the end, Hardison didn't have to say a thing. All he had to do was point when the team's grifter and mastermind walked in a few minutes later.

"O-oh," Sophie breathed in shock. "Well… I did not see that coming."

Nate stared, then spun hurriedly to head back down to the bar and pour himself a drink.

Or several.

fin.

a/n So, this is officially crossing the line between sib relationship and full-on E/P. I promise to warn from now on at the beginning of any chapter, for anyone who doesn't like this pairing. But, hey, I love 'em!


	19. Unexpected Surprise

**UNEXPECTED SURPRISE**

a/n This was suggested to me by my sister. Em, you are awesome.

"Dude! It's like _Three Men and a Baby_," Hardison laughed, then paused. "Only, y'know, with five thieves."

"I'm not a thief," Nate sighed, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

Cooing, Sophie spoke in a baby voice. "She's adorable, isn't she? Cootchie-coo!" As the British grifter leaned over the eight-month-old infant to tickle her, little Lacey stared up, wide-eyed. Then her tiny fingers curled into fists, she squeezed her eyes closed and started wailing loud enough to rival a car alarm.

Glowering, Eliot pushed past Sophie and, with a quiet snarl, scooped the screaming baby out of her stroller and into his arms. Rolling blue eyes, he laid Lacey's cheek against his broad shoulder and began pacing the room, lightly rocking her as he walked.

Everyone stared in shock when the temperamental child stopped crying and began to happily gurgle on the hitter's plaid shirt.

Meeting the confused looks, Eliot huffed. "What? I know you all know I got a nephew. Ain't the first crying baby I've held."

"Eliot's magic," Parker added. All eyes traveled upwards to the blonde, whose ponytail and head hung upside down out of the ceiling air vent.

A sigh, and Eliot let the annoyance and humor flash across his face as his gaze met the female burglar's. "Get down here and make her a bottle, Parker."

"Okay!" the blonde chirped, before swinging down to land on the carpet beside the stroller. Pulling the heavy diaper bag out, Parker began digging through it, making odd sounds as she scooped out three blankets, a bag of cheerios, two gel toys, and a package of diapers. Finally, she shouted, "Ah-hah!" and held out a bottle and the cannister of formula. Then she stared at them in bewilderment and turned to stare at the hitter.

He snorted. "Just… follow the directions on the side, Parker. That's all there is to it."

When Parker continued to frown over at him, biting her lip and peering back and forth between Eliot and the tiny black writing, he let out a small snort. Stepping forward, in seconds he had traded Lacey for the bottle and formula, and headed for the kitchen. Leaving Parker frozen, the giggling infant sitting precariously in her arms and giggling.

Slowly, Parker pulled the infant more securely into her arms, holding Lacey with the same care as she would a masterpiece she had just stolen. Smiling down, she started talking.

"Hi there!" In a completely Parker fashion, she spoke to the baby in a perfectly normal voice. "My name's Parker, and the guy making your drink is Eliot. Which is good, because he can cook and knows how to make stuff that's yummy. I'm sure Nate made bottles for babies before, but now he just remembers how to make drinks with alcohol, which you can't have until you're 21. So Eliot's making it instead, 'cause he's got a nephew, and he probably made a baby drink not really, really long ago. And Eliot keeps everyone safe, and that means you'll be just fine until we save your mommy from those jerks who kidnapped her. Don't worry."

Lacey's smile lit up her face, and Parker's eyes sparkled back.

Calmly returning from the kitchen, shaking the bottle, Eliot took in the sight of the grinning girl and infant, and his face went soft. "Heya, Parker. You wanna feed her?"

The other three team members stood back, watching the weirdly sweet, familial interaction between their two friends and the baby.

"Who knew _they'd_ be awesome babysitters?" Hardison muttered.

The hacker, grifter, and mastermind observed the behavior of the thief and the hitter, as Eliot handed over the bottle and lead Parker to the couch, one hand softly touching the small of her back and the other supporting the arm holding the baby. Then they both settled softly onto the seats, leaning together over Lacey.

Sitting together, heads close as they watched the baby, they looked like nothing so much as a loving young couple with their new baby.

Shaking her head in pleased disbelief, Sophie slipped her arms through the elbows of Hardison and Nate, them pulled them away to set up the next steps of the con.

And Eliot, Parker and Lacey remained oblivious in their own little bubble of comfort and joy.

fin.

a/n2 This may turn into a longer story. We'll see. And if so, I'll probably pull it off here and post it separately. So… we'll see.


	20. Improvising

**IMPROVISING**

a/n This is a birthday present to my sister Emily, who is a HUGE Leverage fan. Love you!

It wasn't the first time Parker had gone off plan on a con. Heck, it wasn't even the craziest thing she'd ever done in those circumstances. But still-

Apparently putting the crazy blonde behind the bar at a karaoke place was a bad idea.

At first, she was just fine doing her job. Doling out drinks, flirting with the other bartenders to get info on the owner, avoiding the drunks grabbing at her hands or trying to buy her drinks, and subtly bouncing along to the music.

Then, two hours in, she seemed to give up on the job (which required her to NOT be noticed). With a little laugh, she told her fellow bartenders she'd be right back, hopped over the bar and dashed up to the microphone before the next person could get there.

Hanging at the back of the building, doing double duty as the new bouncer and Parker's secret back-up, Eliot groaned.

That caught everyone else's attention, and they all started demanding to know what was going on.

"Come see for yourselves," he replied, staying right where he was, leaning against the back wall.

He knew taking Parker to that karaoke place for New Years had been a bad idea.

The hitter listened to the reactions of the team as they each entered separately and took in the sight of Parker, picking a song and smiling around at the crowd.

"_Oh… This is _not_ good._"

"_Parker, this is not part of the plan! Get off that stage. Parker!_"

"_Man, what's she think she's gonna do? Does she even _know_ any songs? Like, the actual real lyrics to any songs?_"

And then the opening began to play, and Eliot glared to keep from grinning like a fool.

"**_I'm not surprised not everything lasts. I've broken my heart so many times I stopped keeping track. Talk myself in, I talk myself out. I get all worked up, then I let myself down._**

"**_I tried so very hard not to lose it. I came up with a million excuses. I thought I thought of every possibility._**"

Here, she shoot a quick wink out towards the silent tough man she knew was standing in the back and watching her.

"**_And I know someday that it'll all work out. You'll make me work, so we can work to work it out. And I promise you, kid, that I give so much more than I get. I just haven't met you yet!_**"

"_Dude_," Hardison sounded awed. "_She's actually… not bad._"

Eliot snorted. "She's amazin', is what she is."

And that got an enormous white grin to spread across the petite blonde's face, as she danced around under the spotlight.

"**_I might have to wait. I'll never give up. I guess it's half timing, and the other half's luck. Wherever you are, whenever it's right, you'll come out of nowhere and into my life._**

"**_And I know that we can be so amazing. And, baby, your love is gonna change me. and now I can see every possibility._**

"**_And somehow I know that it'll all turn out. You'll make me work, so we can work to work it out. And I promise you, kid, I give so much more than I get. I just haven't met you yet._**

"**_They say all's fair in love and war. But I won't need to fight it. We'll get it right and we'll be united._**"

Then she was pulling the cordless mike off the stand and skipping down through the audience.

Straight towards Eliot, who met her with a grin that he couldn't hide anymore. And when she held out her hand, he took it and started dancing her around the room while she kept singing.

"**_And I know that we can be so amazing. And being in your life is gonna change me. And now I can see every single possibility._**"

As the music slowed and quieted, so did the two friends' movement, and Eliot pulled her close to sway back and forth.

"**_And someday I know it'll all turn out. And I'll work to work it out. Promise you, kid, I'll give more than I get. Than I get, than I get, than I get!_**

"**_Oh, you know it'll all turn out! And you'll make me work, so we can work to work it out. And I promise you, kid, to give so much more than I get! Yeah, I just haven't met you yet!_**"

He spun her until she was dizzy, and together they sang the last of the song.

"**_I just haven't met you yet. Oh, promise you, kid, to give so much more than I get._**

"**_I said, love, love, love, love. Love, love, love, love. Love, love, love, love. Love, love, I just haven't met you yet._**"

And Parker, who had hated being touched when they all first met, threw her arms around Eliot's shoulders and tugged him down into a kiss.

The bar erupted into cheers and wolf whistles, and people all around them were holding hands and smiling at each other.

And the team just listened in, dumbfounded, as Eliot pulled back to quietly berate Parker.

"_Well, that wasn't smart._"

"_ I couldn't help it! It's your turn to get a song sung to you._"

"_Yeah, but that one?_"

"_What? I think it's perfect._"

"_There's somethin' wrong with you, Parker._"

"_And you love me!_" came the happy, confident reply.

"_Yeah, yeah,_" was the grumbled, but pleased, response.

Nate finally, politely, coughed into his com. "What exactly do the two of you think you're doing?"

They all watched Eliot jump and scowl, while Parker continued to beam and calmly answered, "_Isn't it obvious, Nate? Improvising!_"

**fin.**


	21. Beautiful Mess

**Beautiful Mess**

**a/n Hey, folks. Sorry it's been taking me so long to continue anything. Real life is kinda kicking my butt. Anyway, this is a little longer than my normal Parker and Eliot drabbles, and not quite as clever, but that's not the point. THE FLUFF IS! Enjoy. ;)**

"What the-?"

Eliot stood in shock, staring around his apartment. Everything was covered in a dusting of sparkles, and there were paper scraps and paint spilled across the top of the island in the kitchen.

Another annoyed and bewildered look around, then it clicked.

"PARKER!"

From somewhere over his head, the blonde's voice spoke. She sounded apologetic and a little scared. "I didn't think it was gonna be this messy. I'm really sorry, Eliot. I got excited, and then when I looked around, everything was all… glittered. Are you mad?"

Sighing heavily, his fingers coming up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. "No, Parker," he answered, resigned. "I ain't mad. I"m just pissed. Not to mention wonderin' if I'm gonna hafta get a new apartment, since glitter's like animal hair, and it gets everywhere, no matter how much you vacuum."

"Oh."

The silence lasted a few more minutes, before Eliot looked up at the ceiling. "You gonna help me clean this mess up, or you just gonna keep hiding up there all day?"

"Uuuuum…"

Finally losing his temper, Eliot barked, "Parker, get the hell down here now, or you're gonna be livin' on nothin' but fortune cookies and cereal again!"

With a frantic squeak, there was movement above his head, and then the air vent on the wall a few feet away popped open and the small blonde thief slid out. Pouting, she stayed out of arm's reach. "That's not fair, Eliot. You were gonna make Boeuf Bourguignon tonight!"

The hitter smirked. "Yeah, well, help me clean up and I still might."

It was nearly twenty minutes later, when they were both wearing an inescapable layer of sparkles, that Eliot finally thought to ask, "What the hell were you doin' that started this anyway?"

Parker blinked, then a huge smile crossed her face as she ran back over to the vent and pulled out a large, folded over piece of blue construction paper. Grinning, she held it out for Eliot to see.

Glitter and rhinestones and splashes of different colored paint were all crammed onto the front, around the words "Happy Birthday!" Slowly opening what he now knew to be a card, Eliot was greeted by two perfectly detailed pictures of a horse and a guitar, along with the message, "I hope your birthday is really great, and I got you something! But I didn't steal it! I promise. -Parker"

Surprise was the strongest emotion as he looked up and locked eyes with the madly grinning blonde. There was also annoyance and tenderness and disbelief, and a dozen other feelings being mixed into some kind of crazy cocktail. "Parker-"

"No! You have to wait a minute!"

She danced over to the nearby couch, and reached underneath. Pulling out a cardboard box that had been duct taped shut, and with ribbons and bows tied all over it, she held it out to the hitter.

Carefully, Eliot reached out, taking the gift and sitting down on the couch to open it. He blinked and Parker was curled up beside him, eyes big and happy. "Open it, open it!"

As he peeled off the bright decorations, and used his pocketknife to slit the duct tape, Eliot knew it didn't matter what was in the box. What mattered was that Parker remembered when he'd slipped up and told her his birthday, and then she had done her best to make it special for him. It had been years since anyone had given him a present on his birthday. In fact, he'd spent a lot of these days in third world hellholes, planning his escape.

But the way Parker's eyes lit up as he pulled out the packaged set of eight paper-thin ceramic knives blew all those years away.

"Thank you, Parker."

She leaned closer and nuzzled into his side, and he happily put an arm around her shoulder, pulling the thief snuggly against him.

Then she looked up at him with what could only be described as puppy-dog eyes, which he just _knew_ Sophie had to have taught her, and asked, "So, will you still make dinner?"

And Eliot burst out laughing.

_fin._


	22. The Hamster Dance

**The Hamster Dance**

1 week.

7 days.

168 hours.

10,080 minutes.

604,800 seconds.

Of torture. Misery. Pain.

And Eliot couldn't blame Parker. She wasn't the one who started everything, or caused it spin wildly out of control.

That was someone else entirely.

"Hardison!"

"Woah, man! What the hell? Why're you lookin' at me like you're about to feed me to a buncha hungry tigers?"

"Because I am."

"Wha-? Ha ha, very funny. Eliot? …_Eliot? Don't you come any closer, man!_"

"Or you'll what? Throw your precious laptop at me?"

"Stay the hell back, Spencer! I ain't jokin'!"

"Well neither am I! I haven't slept in a week!"

"Why the hell're you taken' it out on me?"

"'Cause it's your fault!"

"_My_ fault? What the hell you saying', man? I didn't do nothin'!"

"You introduced Parker to that damn Hamster Dance song! Y'know what she's been playing, on repeat, at full volume, in our apartment since _last Wednesday? THE GODDAMN HAMSTER DANCE!_"

"Oh… oh, man, Eliot, I am so, _so_ sorry. I didn't think- I mean, seriously, who fixates like that? That ain't normal, bro."

"Since when has Parker been _normal_, Hardison?"

"Woah, woah, _woah!_ Just calm your ass down man! I'll take care of it, okay? Quit wavin' that scary ass knife at me! Just- just gimme till tomorrow, man, and I'll make sure that she's totally over this whole Hamster Dance thing. Okay? _Okay?_ And quit freaking' growlin' at me, Spencer!"

"Fine. If she quits playing that damn song by the end of tomorrow, I _won't_ trash your hard drive, smash your new phone and feed you the pieces. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's completely crystal clear, bro. No worries. Really."

**TWO DAYS LATER**

"Hey, Hardison."

"Hey, Eliot. …uh, man, isn't that your "someone's about to be in hella bad pain" growl? And why are you glarin' at me like-? I think I'm just gonna, uh, go, um, hack the CIA or…somethi-"

"You ain't leaving', Hardison! Not until you tell me _who the hell Adam Lambert is, and why the hell Parker keeps playing his songs and insisting I sing along?_"

"Uuuuuuh…"

Sophie opened the door to the apartment and started to walk in, before freezing and ducking away as a blur of screaming hacker, closely followed by a snarling hitter raced through the door.

Staring after the two for a moment, the grifter finally shrugged and continued inside.


	23. Damn FBI

**Damn FBI**

"You know, Agent Hagen and McSweeten seem to really like each other."

At Agent Taggart's oblivious comment, Hardison fought the urge to slam his head against the nearest wall. From their surveillance post atop the roof, they watched their partners (or, in Hardison's case, "partner") interact.

Letting out a fake little laugh, he turned his head away from the balding man and whispered, "Guys, we got a problem. Looks like McSweeten's got plans to follow Parker around like a lost puppy the entire day."

"_What?_" Nate's exclamation was more than a little angry.

Sophie, on the other hand, seemed equal parts annoyed and bemused. "_We can't really afford this right now. If Parker can't get away from him, the con is blown._"

"You think I don't know that?" Hardison snapped back. "I'm stuck here, babysitting out other G-man. There's nothing I can do!"

"_Make him go away!_" From his spot on the building, Hardison could see Parker's gritted teeth bared in a fake smile and the way her hand was slipping towards the small of her back where she kept her tazer.

"Nate, you better do something, fast. Otherwise, we're all blown!"

"_Fine, fine_." They all blinked when the ex-insurance agent sighed, then ordered, "_Eliot, take care of it._"

"_You want me to knock out a fed?_" was the incredulous, growled reply.

"_Listen, I don't care _how_ you do it, Eliot, just as long as you get him to stop following Parker_."

"_For good!_" the thief in question added viciously, clearly having had enough of the young FBI agent's unwanted, clumsy attempts at flirtation.

"_Alright, already_," Eliot snarled. "_Gimme a minute._"

Glancing back out, Hardison watched as the pair reached the edge of the parking lot, and Parker tried once more to lose the oblivious agent sticking to her side.

Which was when Eliot pulled up in his truck, parked, stepped out and dragged Parker into a long, enthusiastic kiss.

"She, uh…" Hardison trailed off, before managing to finally choke out a response to Taggart's original observation. "She's actually got a boyfriend."

The agent followed the hacker's gaze to the couple currently lip-locked. Even after they moved back, their hands stayed linked, while McSweeten gave the appearance of having been punched in the gut.

In a perky voice, Hardison heard Parker introduce Eliot as "_my boyfriend, Roy._"

"_Oh, well… Why is he here? I mean, when you're on a case?_" McSweeten asked, clearly crushed while doing his best to sound welcoming and unaffected by this new information.

"_'S our anniversary,_" Eliot drawled softly, tugging Parker against his side, while she leaned into his hold with a happy smile. "_Agent Thomas said he'd cover for us if we took off for the night. Tell him thanks, by the way._"

"_S-sure._"

"Poor McSweeten," Taggart huffed. "He's had a thing for Agent Hagen since the first time they met, back on the Mascone case."

"Yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that, man," Hardison spoke, forcing himself to shake off the lingering surprise. "They got together, her and Roy I mean, about a month before the Moscone thing."

"I never would've guessed she was taken," Taggart slowly shook his head, than shrugged. "Suppose I should have, though. Pretty girls like that are never single for long."

Meanwhile, the conversation between the blonde thief and the brunet hitter came through the comms.

"_You're a really good kisser_," Parker announced to Eliot.

A little chuckle and the man responded, "_Thank you, darlin'._"

"_We should do that again after the con's over._"

"_I wouldn't be opposed to that._"

"_Yes, well I would_," Nate broke in.

"_Oh, come on, Nate_," Sophie protested. "_It's romantic._"

As his team's interactions devolved from there, Hardison tried to wrap his mind around the possibility of Parker and Eliot being… together? This left him in a similar state of bewilderment and disappointment as the returning McSweeten. On whom he was going to blame _everything_, by the way. Seriously, if McSweeten had just figured out that Parker wasn't interested sooner, none of this would have happened.

Yup, it was all McSweeten's fault.

And maybe Taggart's.

Damn FBI.


	24. A Stolen Moment

**A Stolen Moment**

_a/n A moment from The Maltese Falcon Job._

_…_

The confrontation with Nate was unplanned, which made it all the more true. Eliot's arguments weren't reaching their team leader, and Parker, wanting to help, feeling scared and exposed and angry, finally got through to the older man.

"Be Nathan Ford! Be the man we came back for!"

As Nate pulled himself together and started planning, Eliot couldn't help slowing and reaching out to brush Parker's fingers. She only hesitated for a moment before turning her palm outward and grabbing his hand.

The con may have gone all wrong, and Sophie might not be there, and FBI and Interpol were looking for them, and Sterling was helping-

And none of that mattered, because she understood what Eliot's words and his hand holding hers meant: he would keep them safe.


	25. Justice, Revenge, Whatever the Hell You…

**Justice, Revenge, Whatever the Hell You Wanna Call It**

It was the job with the fake psychic that really pushed Eliot.

The guy had been on his hit list already, just for the way he was dragging it out with the pregnant lady, taking her for all that she had. But when he messed with Parker, that's when the gloves came off.

The day Rand cold read the winsome thief, Eliot took her back to his place, wrapped her in a blanket, put on Atlantis (so far, Kida was her favorite Disney princess), and plied her with hot chocolate and oatmeal cookies until she fell asleep. The blonde kept waking up, crying, until he finally gave in, sitting down and letting her slip onto his lap. It wasn't much, but it stopped the bad memories from intruding on her dreams.

Once Nate outlined the con, Eliot knew Rand would pay. It wouldn't be enough for what he'd put Parker through. Eliot might be a good guy now, but he still knew the bad guys. It wasn't his best moment when he made a call that would guarantee Rand's prison life would be hell on earth. Still, he felt better. Justice, revenge, whatever the hell you wanted to call it, the hitter knew he had done right by Parker. And that was really what mattered.

That satisfied him, but Parker was still reeling. She faked it, and the rest of the team seemed to buy her act. Eliot could see through it, though.

Personal life and the job should never collide or coexist. He had lived by that creed for _years_. None of that stopped him bringing along Parker the next time he got a weekend to visit his sister.

And if his nephew had been begging "Uncle El" to come down and teach him to ride a bicycle, and if he had asked Parker to help, and if she had taken over the lessons until Corey was driving around like he'd been born riding wheels, well, that was purely coincidence.


	26. A Promise

**A Promise**

_"Moreau would like to speak with you…" - 3.13, The Morning After Job_

… …

"Hey, Eliot." Hardison sat across from the hitter, who had finally changed out of the last of the police uniform.

Looking up, he raised an eyebrow.

"What'd you say to Vector that made him grab the gun?"

If he hadn't known Eliot as well as he did, Hardison would never have noticed the momentary hesitation, before the man answered, "I told him Moreau wanted to talk to him."

That caused the hacker to smirk, "Yeah, I can see where that'd scare the guy enough to go for a weapon in a room full of witnesses. Still, how could you be sure he wouldn't just think you were lyin'?"

Another of those millisecond pauses, then the brunet pushed back his hair and shrugged. "He was testifying on a case with dirty cops. So it wouldn't surprise him if one of 'em was workin' for Moreau."

"Okay, okay. I see where you're comin' from."

… …

As the younger man walked away, Eliot took deep, calming breaths so he wouldn't punch a hole through something. This whole thing, from the moment the Italian made the offer to Nate, was just about the worst thing that could have happened.

He cared about the crew. They were good people, and the closest thing he had to family, besides his sister and nephew. And he was fearful of their reactions to what was coming. Because, as much as he tried to deny it, he never could lie to himself. And going after Moreau… sooner or later, it would come back to their shared history and what Eliot had done for the man.

He didn't know if any one of them would be able to even look him in the eyes once they knew.

There was no way to fix this. So he would do what he always did: he would keep them safe and alive. If they hated him, they hated him. That wouldn't change his choice to watch out for them. They did good, they changed lives, they mattered. And he wasn't going to let them pay for his past.

That was a promise.


	27. Loyalty, Trust, Family

**Loyalty, Trust, Family**

_a/n Set during "The San Lorenzo Job"._

… …

"_These people you are with now, would you leave any of them behind? Ever?_"

It wasn't a complicated question, and all Eliot had to do was glance back over his shoulder and see an easily smiling Parker to know the answer. It was about loyalty. Trust. Family.

No, he would never leave one of them behind, even if it cost him his own life. He'd proved that over and over in the time the team had been working together. It still hit him like a bullet every time. He had people he would die for, who would die for him, that weren't tied to him by blood.

Three years ago, that would have seemed crazy. Now, it was fact.

As his silence stretched, he heard the General's soft, understanding words. "_I thought so. I cannot take the chance they will kill these men in reprisal if you rescue me. Leave me here. No matter what._"

Eliot didn't want to admit defeat, and he wanted to fix getting the General stuck in a jail cell. The sentiment behind his orders was familiar, though.

When the other man hung up, Eliot wished he'd had a chance to protest, even knowing it would have been useless. Then a subdued voice behind him asked if he was okay.

Turning, he took in the blonde thief's worried expression and fought down the abrupt and utterly inappropriate urge to hug her, then hide Parker and the rest of the team somewhere safe and far away from anything or anyone ever touched by Damian Moreau.

His jaw clenched and he turned his attention back to the plan, without answering the thief's question. After… after the job was over, however it ended, he was making sure that all four of his teammates would get out of here safely and get something like a full month of vacation on some private island, without any cons to run or bad guys to take down. They deserved it.

So long as he focused on that, instead of how many ways Nate's plans could go wrong, he could keep that primal need to whisk them all away to safety in check.


	28. Sometimes Bad Guys are Just Bad Guys

****_a/n This is a dark!AU for Leverage. The idea jumped in to my head and wouldn't go away. I don't think I'll ever use this again, but who knows? The idea of them as legit bad guys is scarily entertaining. *grin*_

**Sometimes Bad Guys are Just Bad Guys**

Nathan Ford:_ Super Villain Potential_

Nathan Ford undertstood people. He understood how and why they did things, he understood the baser motivations, and he thought anyone who ignored that was an idiot.

When Nate was five, he wanted to be a priest. Priests received trust and admiration. People did what they said just because they said it.

When Nate was ten, he stopped wanting to be a priest and wanted to be his father. Jimmy Ford was the best at what he did and it earned him respect and fear. Those were better than trust and admiration any day. Nate spent all the time he could watching his father. It was a thorough and visceral education. Then someone snitched.

When Nate was fifteen, talking to the old man through bullet proof glass and realizing how bad he would look in orange, he stopped wanting to be his father. Respect and fear were all well and good, but not worth the price of freedom.

When Nate was eighteen, he decided to have everything he wanted and he would get there with the talents he had for knowing what people would do next. He would be astounding.

When Nate was twenty-three, he was a criminal mastermind.

…

Sophie Deveraux: _A Thousand Faces that No One Knew_

The first time the little girl who would become Sophie Deveraux (and whose name was decidedly not Sophie Deveraux) conned someone, she was three. Her parents refused to by her a toy she wanted. She could barely talk, and was still having trouble with the concept of walking, which meant she fell down quite a lot, resulting in bruises. All it took was a kind policeman, some crying and showing off of said bruises, a few words, and her parents went to jail for child abuse.

Her grandmother, rich and guilty for not seeing her son and daughter-in-law's apparent evil sooner, adopted the girl.

The sixth time she conned someone, her rival of the main part in the second-year's school play was put in therapy. And the other girl was far too drugged to act, as a precaution to stop her from having another "psychotic break".

The three hundred and forty-second time she conned someone, it cost a woman her life and name, and the girl was reborn as Sophie Deveraux. It still wasn't her real name, but she liked the way it sounded, and she liked Sophie's shoes. It would do.

There were other names, other people, other treasures to possess. Still, sooner or later she always came back to Sophie. The boots alone were reason enough, she supposed.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, with how things fell out), the first time she tried to con someone and failed, it was Sophie who tried to con Nate Ford.

The two-thousand and ninety-third time she conned someone, Nate was running the game. From there, everything just got better.

…

Parker:_ Favorite Little Psychopath_

Parker didn't talk about her childhood, except to stories that involved explosions and theft and blood.

Parker didn't talk about relationships, unless they had ended in bombs and burglary and knives.

Parker didn't talk about possible jobs, until Nate told her what and where and who.

Then she would grin widely and go shopping. She always said Sophie was crazy because the other woman went shopping for shoes and clothes and purses. Parker shopped for harnesses and cables, brass knuckles and shruiken, plastique explosives and C4. There was a reason Parker worked alone.

Really, the crew was lucky Nate's plans always kept her busy and entertained or there would probably be nothing left of them to find.

Nate was rather proud of that fact.

…

Alec Hardison:_ Ghost in the Machine_

Data was easy. Numbers, names, dates, facts – these were easy. Governments set things up on computer systems and the internet, and people existed because the systems said they did. Who needed to kill someone when you could make them disappear in plain sight instead?

Money was boring. Electronic banks, electronic transfers, electronic cash flow – no challenge. And there were only so many times he could buy and sell countries, or mail awkward clown porn and hate mail to Russel T. Davies for killing off the Master, or leak the names of the CIA's undercover operatives in South America and the Middle East before it became mundane and repetitive.

Being found by Nate Ford was a shock – it should have been impossible. Being invited to join Nate's crew was the most exciting thing to happen to Alec Hardison in years.

He only existed when he wanted to, and if this wasn't a good enough reason, nothing was. Existing in Nate Ford's world was going to be fun.

…

Eliot Spencer:_ Death Walks in his Shadow_

The name Eliot Spencer was simple and unexciting. The man Eliot Spencer was terrifying. He was the Boogeyman and the monster under the bed. He was the trail of destruction and bodies left in his wake. He was the end of the nation that almost became a liberated Croatia.

If hitters, retrieval experts, assassins, and the scariest badasses to roam the earth were the type to sit around a campfire telling scary stories, Eliot Spencer would be the center of all their tales. And his names would never be mentioned, for fear it might draw his attention.

If you could afford him, he was the best. If you couldn't afford him, you didn't try. The cost would turn out to be too steep, and paid in screams.

What no one knew was that Eliot Spencer had exactly two weak spots: a psycho and a ghost. He called them Parker and Hardison.

Nate Ford found out. And Nate Ford survived because he kept the pair happy, and Eliot Spencer was looking into new options. That was the only reason.

…

Leverage: _To exert power or influence in order to gain an objective. To apply force and pressure at angles to move an object or objects._

Nate Ford understood people. Nate Ford understood his team. Nate Ford understood leverage.

And Nate Ford understood that, sometimes, bad guys are just bad guys.


	29. Parker's Obsession

**Parker's Obsession**

At the time, Eliot hadn't thought much about it. It was just the newest Disney movie, and Parker was in love with Disney stuff. (When they'd stopped by Disneyland during a job, she'd actually _paid_ for all the souvenirs she brought back.)

So he'd been at the bar, and the game was on, and a commercial for the movie flashed across the screen, and he figured, what the hell? Parker'd enjoy it.

He just hadn't realized how much.

They saw the movie, and as soon as they got back Parker had Hardison download an illegal copy for her, and she picked up the soundtrack at a music store in town, and she started collecting chameleon stuffed animals and toys.

And, sure, she kept watching it and would sing along to all the songs whenever they drove anywhere (Because, somehow, every car she went anywhere in had the cd. He was beginning to think she wouldn't "borrow" a vehicle anymore without checking their music first.), and she was suddenly really interested in horses and asked if he had one on his ranch like the one from the movie (No, he didn't. Horses are not actually that smart, Parker.), and when her hair was getting long and Sophie offered to take her to a salon and get it trimmed Parker freaked.

It still didn't really hit him until a job came up that had them at a comic convention. The whole thing was full of nerds to rival Hardison, and they were supposed to blend in. He didn't care what Nate said, he was not wearing any goddamn spandex. But the man just kept going on about costumes.

Then Parker was jumping up and down and yelling that she had an idea about what they could do.

The next thing Eliot knew, he was walking into a convention center full of first class geeks, and he was wearing brown tights, pirate boots, a flowy white shirt, a blue vest thing, a couple of belts and was carrying around a satchel that had a tiara Parker'd stolen a few years ago in it. And hanging happily on his arm, bouncing with each step, was Parker, whose long blonde hair was braided and full of flowers that matched her purple and pink gown. She had a chameleon toy on her shoulder and her eyes and smile were enormous.

Hardison and Sophie followed behind, the first pissed, the second both insulted and pleased. Hardison was wearing a crazy white Mohawk-looking wig with a pair of pointy matching ears sticking out, a horse's bit, reigns and saddle, and a long, silky white tail was pinned to his butt. Sophie wore a form-fitting, long red dress with flared half-sleeves, a dark cloak and her hair was a tangled mess of curls.

Nate had refused to dress up. Both of the boys hated that he could get away with that.

That was the moment when people started seeing them, started recognizing them, and within minutes a group of teenagers dressed as ninjas ran up and asked for pictures.

Damn it all to hell.

Parker noticed his discomfort and poked him hard in the chest. "Flynn Rider _likes_ when people pay attention to him, Eliot!"

"And we are meant to be in character," Sophie nodded, smiling around wickedly.

Before the day was through, they had gotten exactly nothing pertaining to the job done. On the other hand, the whole group had been dragged on stage to perform a few of the songs and scenes. Sophie's rendition of "Mother Knows Best" was really pretty good, and him and Hardison fighting with Parker breaking it up wasn't exactly faked. The attention quadrupled when Parker started climbing on things and doing impossible jumps and gymnastics.

At the end of the day, Nate was equal parts annoyed and entertained, Sophie was glowing from the applause and attention she'd received, and Parker couldn't stop giggling and singing.

On the other hand, Hardison came up to Eliot and said, "Listen, man, the next time somethin' like _Tangled_ comes out and ya think Parker might like it… Could you just, y'know, _not?_"

Eliot smirked. "You're just pissed that you ended up the horse and I ended up the love interest."

Before Hardison could retort, Parker was there, pressing a kiss to the computer geek's cheek, making him go bright red. Then she was pushing her mouth insistently against an all to willing Eliot's, and he popped his eyes open just long enough to see Hardison's shocked stare before he swung the lithe blonde up in his arms. "Ready to go home, Rapunzel?"

She melted against his chest and grinned. "Yep."


	30. Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed

**Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed**

He had been hurt before. Hurt badly. And the team knew it. But he always kept moving, kept fighting, kept giving back as good as he got. No matter how hard he was knocked down, he always got back up.

This time he didn't.

He hit the ground and didn't move. Didn't twitch or crawl or growl or force himself to his feet. He stayed there on the concrete, while the bruises from the beating were growing darker, and the swelling on his face and body was getting worse, and the blood coming from the bulletholes was drowning the rough floor in red.

The bad guy gathered his loot, wiped his fingerprints off the weapon and dropped it beside the tattered figure, then turned and headed for the door.

And Eliot still wasn't moving.

The team lost it. Common sense was stuck firmly on the back burner, traded for the endless mental litany of _Eliotelioteliot__…_

Parker found a screwdriver in the air vent. Sophie lifted a gun off one of the thug's. Hardison grabbed the crowbar in the back of the van.

Nate watched Eliot's shooter walk out of the building, briefcase full of cash and documents in hand, a please smile on the man's lips. Nate aimed the car and floored it.

By the time they reached Eliot, they all had blood on their hands. He had taught them well and, for the most part, it wasn't theirs.

Eliot was still unconscious, and that vital red liquid was still pouring out of him – but his heart was beating and he was still breathing, and that was all that mattered.

The doctors said the physical therapy alone would take months. Eliot woke up and walked out of the hospital in two weeks. He cleaned, he cooked, he did Tai Chi, and he wouldn't stop apologizing. They shouldn't have blood on their hands, he said. That was his job.

They brushed every attempt aside and told him they didn't expect him to be Superman. Hardison assured him that Superman was lame and Eliot was all kinds of Batman. Parker told him he wouldn't look good with a cape. Sophie chuckled that Eliot was too smart to be a Boy Scout super hero. Nate offered him a drink and then mentioned that Eliot wasn't bulletproof.

They all said that he protected them, and they had never doubted that. And if sometimes they got the chance to protect Eliot, it was only fair.


	31. When the Bad Guys Meet the Worse Guys

****_a/n This is a continuation of Chapter 28: Sometimes Bad Guys are Just Bad Guys. It is a dark!AU. Please keep that in mind while reading._

**When the Bad Guys Meet the Worse Guys**

Eliot Spencer had worked for Damien Moreau in the past. It had been a good job, the best up to that point. There were holiday bonuses and health benefits. And no one raised an eyebrow when he went at a guy with a poker and a brick. It was refreshing.

Working for Moreau was how he first met Parker and Hardison.

Two thefts – one physical, one digital – had occurred in such perfect synch that he'd assumed they were working together. Tracking them down had been ludicrously simple, since Hardison had been overconfident in his ability to remain unnoticed.

When he found them, they stood in the center of a ritzy hotel suite. (One which Hardison had paid for using Russel T. Davies' credit card. He had no idea why Hardison was always so pissed at the British tv writer.) Both held guns, fingers caressing the triggers.

People weren't made to last and Eliot stood by that. Normally, proving that saying true was his first priority. But the sight of the two thieves frozen opposite one another captivated him.

Pale skin and yellow hair. Lithe limbs cased in black.

Dark skin and black hair. Wiry frame wrapped in bright colors.

And two pairs of eyes flickering to fix on him, full of crazy and smart and angry and _bored_. They were bright with potential, and Eliot casually threw the best job he'd ever had out the window. _No one_ was killing these two, because he already knew that they were _his_.

Five years later, he faces Moreau again.

Last time, he took Hardison and Parker and left. Any goons hired to come after them, sent by anyone, were returned in pieces. This time is different.

Damien Moreau is the one standing there, grinning, as his thugs press the barrels of their guns tight to the heads of the team. A small part of Eliot calculates the odds of getting them all out. He knows it would be easier for Hardison and Parker if Nate survived. After all, the mastermind makes sure they are never bored.

But Nate and Sophie are both acceptable losses, when it comes down to it.

Parker and Hardison are not.

Eliot smirks, rolls back his shoulders, reveals the animal. He can play civilized with the best of them, but underneath it all, he is a predator. To threaten his life-mates or his pack is to declare oneself collateral damage. That is what Damien has just done.

In a flash of motion, he whips the gun that he had tucked casually into the back of his waistband out.

Eliot doesn't like guns. They are too impersonal. If he is going to kill someone, he prefers to do it up close. He would rather stand near enough to feel the final, stuttering breath of air escape the target's lungs than risk them ducking at the wrong moment or getting to a doctor fast enough to be saved.

Eliot doesn't like guns. This never means he doesn't know how to use them.

Four shots, and four thick slabs of muscle all hit the ground, a perfect hole set squarely between each minion's eyes.

Sophie comes away with a broken ankle, Nate has a bullet in his left shoulder, Eliot takes a shot to the gut. Two of Hardison's fingers are dislocated and Parker's wrists are bruised.

Moreau tries to run.

It takes Moreau two weeks to die, and his last days are spent in nerve-destroying, entirely agonizing pain. Because there are bad guys, and there are worse guys.

Eliot has always been the second.


	32. First Priority

_a/n Tag to "The Long Way Down Job"._

**First Priority**

It was early the next morning, and Eliot was still confused as to how he'd ended up driving Hardison and Parker back down the mountain.

The hacker made sense - kid probably drove Lucille 2 as far as he could, then parked and hitched a ride or followed up a bunch of the other climbers when they headed to base camp.

On the other hand, no one was sure how Parker got there. Her modes of transportation were completely unknown to the other crew members.

Either way, they were both in Eliot's truck, with the hacker stretched out across the rear seats, fast asleep. The blonde thief had pulled her feet up on the seat, hugging her knees, and seemed drowsy, but aware.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" she finally asked, voice hushed in the enclosed space.

Even after he had reassured her that they had brought the client peace, Eliot guessed the question would still be dancing around in that strange head of Parker's.

Sighing, he finally decided to tell her the basic truth. "Parker, if you'd kept trying to bring the body down, I wouldn't've let you."

She jolted upright and stared, eyes round and surprised.

"My first priority is always gonna be the team, sweetheart. Kids are second, clients are third, innocent bystanders are fourth. The dead body of the client's late husband doesn't even make the top 20, darlin'. And luggin' around an empty shell that _used_ to be a person would've been a distraction I couldn't afford. _You_ were what mattered up there, Parker. If you had kept insistin', I'd've thrown you over my shoulder and carried you kicking and screaming back to base camp."

There was a long silent moment, then Parker was reaching across the console and hugging Eliot tightly. He brought up a hand to pat her arm, grateful for the soft warmth, but he kept his eyes on the road.

"Thanks, Eliot."

"Anything for you, darlin'."


	33. Any Other Day

**33. Any Other Day**

**… …**

_Tag to The First David Job._

**_… …_**

Eliot would never admit it, but he was scared. He'd done the recon before they went after the First David, so he knew what Blackpoole's security team was capable of, and they had Hardison.

And Sterling had Parker.

Any other day, he'd have ignored Nate's orders, said _screw the plan_, and gone in to get them. He would have done whatever was necessary to retrieve the pair. He may not be able to admit it out loud, but he knew they were important. They were family, even if it was screwed up and a tiny part of him was still waiting for one of them to call him a murderer or stab him in the back.

But, then, Sophie had already taken care of that, hadn't she?

Even expecting it, Eliot still wasn't sure if he'd ever get over that betrayal. She'd put them all at risk 'cause she got greedy. She'd put _Parker and Hardison_ at risk. And it didn't matter how long that pair had been in the life, they were still innocents compared to Eliot and Nate and Sophie.

Whatever might happen to them because of this, Eliot was going to hold it against Sophie, probably to her dying day.

Any other day, he would already be tracking down Parker, busting into the office, and if he'd had to take a gun, no matter that he would have hated himself after, he would've to get them back. But that son of a bitch Quinn had given him a beating that he couldn't just shrug off. Normally, when he got hurt on a job, Eliot would ignore it and move on. But with three ribs broken so that every time he breathed he was wary of puncturing a damn lung, a concussion that was making his world spin in and out of focus, and any number of smaller bruises, cuts and breaks, he physically couldn't do what he needed to. So he had to trust Nate's plan.

And he had to trust Sophie.

That was the hardest part, trusting the grifter. She had used her own team, conned them, and if she screwed this up, if she didn't manage to get Parker out safe, he would put her in the ground.

But for now, he had to focus on the plan, had to focus on the only thing that was important. The blow ups and accusations and anger could wait, the destruction of the team was imminent. But all that mattered was saving Parker and Hardison. And as long as he kept his mind on that, he could follow the mastermind and the grifter in this vitally important job to steal back a hacker and a thief.

**… …**

**…**

**… …**

_a/n NOOOOOOOO! Leverage is OVER! Life, why must you be so unfair? Still, they managed to finish it perfectly. It turned out to be one of the few show finales that I actually felt tied up everything it needed to without making me want to kill the writers/tv execs/producers/directors. It was brilliant. Painful, but brilliant. And since I own all 5 seasons in their complete glory (Thank God for iTunes.), I'm currently on a marathon to watch them all, in order, over the next few days. *snort* And my family thinks I have screwed up priorities._

_Anyway, despite the show being over (*sniffle*), I'm still going to keep adding to these drabbles for as long as something sparks my imagination and makes me think of this wonderful group of characters. I promise._

_Also, thanks so much, again, to everyone who had shown an interest!_

_t.h._


	34. You Can't Plan for Everything

**You Can't Plan for Everything**

Eliot was not the only one who had been hurt while the team was on a job. Sure, he felt like he failed everytime it wasn't him taking the beating or the bullet. Still, he couldn't be everywhere; he could just do his best.

But when Hardison went and broke his leg in a goddamn car crash while they weren't working, the hitter set the hacker up in Eliot's own apartment, made sure he was comfortable, than chewed the kid out thoroughly.

After finishing the lecture, he left the apartment to pick up the fixings for dinner, and Hardison turned to Parker and asked, furious, "Why's he so mad at me? The other guy was the one who hit my car. I got my damn femur snapped in two, here!"

The thief settled in next to Hardison, who was stretched out on the couch, leg propped on the coffee table and boosted up by a pillow. Parker didn't always understand normal people (They were boring.), and emotions didn't make a lot of sense (They were messy.), but the more time she spent with her friends, the better she could read them.

Hardison looked angry, but he was pouting a little, and his eyes were sad, confused, wounded, guilty, like he had disappointed someone.

She patted his shoulder and offered him some of her cereal. He waved it away and waited. Eliot could translate Parker better than anyone, and the same was becoming true the other way around as well.

In between the crunch of chewing, Parker shrugged and explained. "He's not mad at _you_, silly. He's mad at himself."

That made Hardison jerk back a little and she watched his super smart brain start whirring until the answer clicked. Then he got even more bewildered. "But that's just- How the hell could he stop some drunk asshole from hitting me? We weren't working a con, and he can't be ready and waiting for everything. Why's he taking it so personal?"

"'Cause it's his job," was the the frank reply.

Hardison shook his head. "I just told you, mama, _we weren't working a con_. No one's expecting him to watch out for us when we don't got something in the works."

Parker turned to stare at him like he was an absolute idiot, and Hardison shifted, annoyed and uncomfortable for not knowing what the almost-glare was about.

"For someone so smart, you can be really dumb," she finally said. "Eliot doesn't quit taking care of us just because Nate says the con's over. He makes us food and teaches us how to fight and if one of us gets sick, he helps us get better. And he checks up on us and drives past you and Nate and Sophie's apartments and my safehouse every night. And he always has his street contacts and the not-so-bad guys he used to work with who owe him favors make sure no one who wants to hurt us is heading this way, and if someone is, he takes care of it and makes sure they'll leave us alone.

"Eliot never stops taking care of us. But you got hurt anyway. That's why he's so mad."

With it explained that way, Hardison let himself mull it over and realized it was true – Eliot was always watching out for them, they all knew he would have their backs no matter where or when the problem arose, even off the clock. He tried to get them together once or twice a month for dinner, whether they had a job or not. Sophie may have been the mother figure of their crew, but Eliot was the one who did all the actually mothering stuff.

When the smaller man got back to the apartment with the ingredients for some kind of homemade beef and vegetable stew, Hardison knew he couldn't let him get all the way to the kitchen, or he wouldn't see Eliot again for an hour. Hardison tugged on Eliot's shirt, and hated that it made him feel about five, but it got the hitter to stop and listen for a couple seconds. "You know, man, you can't plan for everything."

Eliot's grumpy poker face broke for just a moment, and Hardison could finally see how his injury had affected the older man. He really did blame himself, and the downturn of his mouth said he thought he'd failed.

So the hacker just rolled his eyes and offered up a rueful smile. "Really, bro, even _you_ can't plan for everything. But thanks for trying."

And Eliot almost smiled.

**… …**

**…**

**… …**

_a/n New chapter, folks! Sorry I haven't updated this in a while. Unfortunately, what happened to Hardison in this oneshot happened to my brother yesterday. The way I was feeling in response (and the fact that I was watching a bunch of Leverage for President's Day) made me think of Eliot. Thus this chapter was born._

_The break in his leg was pretty bad, but my brother should be fine, so the panic and irrational guilt from last night is mostly gone. *laugh* Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Love y'all._


	35. The Car's the Thing

_Tag to The Boost Job._

… …

**The Car's the Thing**

Before the job with Penzer and Josie, Eliot, Parker and Hardison had never realized they had a common interest in cars.

The thief was still mildly sorry she had put the team in danger. Add to that how it was her fault Eliot had been hit by a car and ended up in the river, and she was trying to figure out how to apologize.

Hardison suggested they take one of Eliot's cars and fine tune it, make sure it was running the best it could, in as close to perfect condition as possible.

Of course, the blonde wasn't good about letting people know when she had "borrowed" something, and the 2012 Ford Mustang GT was no exception.

When he went to grab it two days later to pick up some groceries, Eliot was furious about the apparent theft. He used the lojack he'd installed in all his cars to find it. And he remained seriously pissed until he showed up at the garage they'd also "borrowed" and found them diligently working, Hardison inside fiddling with something on the dash, chatting about the specs of the system, while Parker was under the hood, responding with a few nods, along with the occasional "mm-hmm" and "yeah" that meant she was almost, sort of listening.

The hitter took in the picture his friends made and was still fairly angry. But he had spent enough time with them to get why they were doing this.

So he shucked off his jacket and button up, and joined Parker.

"Whatchya workin' on?"

Startled, the thief jumped and spun, eyes wide. There was a momentary pause wherein she was clearly searching his face for signs that he was still holding a grudge about the whole messed-up-the-con-and-got-Eliot-totally-run-over- and-almost-drowned thing. But there was nothing except the same vaguely annoyed quirk of the eyebrows and downturned mouth that meant you've-done-something-stupid-and-I-ain't-happy- about-it-but-it's-not-a-huge-deal. That pretty much went hand-in-hand with his there's-something-wrong-with-you look, and she was used to that.

So she scooted over to let him study her work.

He chuckled. "Not bad. I'm thinkin' about putting in cold air intakes. You know anything about that?"

Parker's response was an infectiously childlike grin, and he couldn't help returning it with a grudging smile of his own.

Which was when Hardison popped out of the car and flinched back. "Uh, hey man. Yeah, we were gonna tell you about, you know, pimpin' out your ride here, but we kinda got started and we just didn't-"

Stopping the geek before he got lost in his normal, pointless babble, Eliot raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, just don't do it again. Or I'll break that new computer of yours that you keep cooin' at like it's some kinda baby."

This time, it was a full on cringe, and Hardison shook his head in disbelief. "Come on, man, that's just cruel. That thing has a dual processor that runs at-"

"Hardison." He cut him short. "I don't care. And do me a favor, don't _ever_ say anything about 'pimping out' a Mustang again. Got it?"

"Sure, whatever, dude."

Eliot and Parker exchanged a glance, the classic why-do-we-put-up-with-him-again? one, then Eliot sighed. "Hardison, get up here so you can learn a little more about an actual _engine_. Seriously, it's not all about calculations and nitrous, man."

It took Nate a week to track them down when he found a new client, and by then they had started rebuilding a 1969 Charger.

_…_

_a/n If anyone's wondering why there are so many descriptions-using-slashes, it's because I picture Parker thinking in similar terms._

_So, I'm rewatching all the tv shows I own, and just got back around to Leverage. No promises how soon I'll have another chapter, but this fic will probably never end. *wink* Love you all!_


	36. Unexpected Reunions

_a/n So just a general warning, _**_this chapter is OT3_**_ - hitter/hacker/thief. Next chapter should be back to general Eliot and Parker adorbs. To everyone reading, thanks for your continued interest!_

_…_

**Unexpected Reunions**

It didn't register at first, when Eliot heard someone calling from behind him. Probably because it had been so long since someone had referred to him by his original name.

But then there was a hand on his arm, pulling him around, and he almost planted a fist right in the face of…

"Sage Peters?"

She was already fluttering her lashes and peeking up at him with that smile that, once upon a time, had him abandoning everything to carry her books or offer her a ride.

Before she could speak, there was a yell from behind them. "Heya, Sparky! We're all done!" And as he turned to respond to the thief coming up at their backs, she was already throwing herself into his arms, her hands at his neck, her legs around his waist, and that pretty mouth determined and pushing against his own. He gave it a few seconds, happily going along with the excitement. Parker always got turned on when they pulled off a big score. Then he was pulling her away and putting her feet back firmly on the ground.

The blonde continued to bounce in place, grinning like a kid at Christmas. He had to smile, then told her, "Grab the idiot, and we can go home."

"You got it!" She was off and skipping back in the direction she came by the time he turned around to face Sage.

The disappointment and mild annoyance were both there, though she was valiantly trying to hide them behind a happy expression. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"It's, uh, a little more complicated than that," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

When Sage just stared, obviously waiting for additional information, Eliot sighed.

Which was the moment Hardison arrived, also flushed with victory. "Hey, man, we good to go?"

Eliot considered letting it go, but it wasn't his way. Instead, he spun to glare. "Dammit, Hardison, next time try not to get yourself into trouble!"

And there was was the pout. Eliot suspected Parker had been teaching him, since they both knew he couldn't say no when they gave him that combined with the sad, huge eyes.

Matching the look, Hardison whined, "Don't I get any sugar?"

Growling, the hitter finally gave up and pulled the taller man toward him, yanking him down into a rough kiss.

He heard the choking at his back of his old classmate, and still couldn't convince himself it was worth stopping the press of lips just yet.

Giving it a minute, Eliot finally ended the kiss to find Parker standing at their side, head tilted and eyes focused in confusion on Sage. "Why is she looking at us like we're on fire?"

Eliot almost laughed when he realized how apt the description appeared. His high school crush was staring at them in shock and what almost qualified as fear.

"'Cause this thing we got ain't exactly normal, darlin'. Not to mention she didn't know I swung both ways."

"Why wouldn't she know?" the blonde questioned, still puzzled.

"I wasn't exactly open about it back in high school."

Now the thief wore an appalled face. "But that's so sad!"

Hardison was blinking. "What?"

Parker rolled her eyes, focusing intently on Eliot. "That means that only half the people there got to find out how good Eliot is at sex!"

Both of the men groaned, although the hitter could feel the top of his ears getting a little red.

And Sage was still rooted to the spot, watching the interaction between the trio.

"Yeah, well, considerin' the guys at my high school, I wasn't in a hurry to hop into bed with any of 'em," he muttered. "Nice seein' you again, Sage," Eliot spoke, sending the woman a mild smile that held amusement and challenge.

And she just nodded, instinctively taking a step back, holding up her hand in a jerky wave and responding with an aborted, "Yeah, you, uh…" Then she stumbled back another step before determinedly headed _away_.


	37. Consequences of an Empty Vault

_a/n Tag to The Gold Job._

…

**Consequences of an Empty Vault**

_Hardison: That vault is almost always empty._

_Eliot: So you knew it was empty? Hardison, I'm gonna tell you something and I want you to listen to me very carefully, okay? You ever pull this again, I'm gonna personally make sure you're off this team 'cause I'm going to break _every bone in your body.

…

It was after the meeting and everyone else had left that Eliot approached the hacker, who was still high on the fact that Nate was letting him run the con.

He grabbed the back of Hardison's neck and yanked him around to face the hitter.

"I'm serious, Hardison. You _ever_ send any of the team into somewhere that you know is a dead end for a job again, I will start with your fingers and work up, until you don't have a single unbroken bone. You got that?"

The taller man tried to pull back, staring in alarm at Eliot, whose expression was disarmingly calm. There were levels of Angry Eliot. Hardison and Parker had once made a chart and named them all. There was Basic Grumpy, Slightly Pissed, Punch in the Face, Snarling Violence, Slamming Folks into Tables and Walls (They had both figured that one was a little long, but it fit.), DOA, etc.

At the farthest end of the list was Apocalyptic, the look he was wearing right now. That was the level where anyone he came across knew that he didn't actually need to touch or hit, he could convey the fear of a guarantee that if they crossed him they would be in more pain then they'd felt in their whole life.

"So help me, you put any one of them needlessly into danger like that again, you will regret it for the rest of your goddamn life. Y'hear me?"

Hardison was well aware that if Nate or any of the others in the team had done something similar - sending a crew mate uselessly into somewhere that they could get caught - Eliot would be threatening them instead. But right now, the younger man was the one who had dropped Parker into the proverbial line of fire for no other reason than to prove how smart the hacker was. And their team's self-appointed protector would not let that slide.

Hardison nodded. "Okay, man. I promise. I didn't- Shit, man, I didn't think about it like that."

The grip Eliot had on the back of Hardison's neck grew momentarily tighter and was combined with a quick shake, before he released him. "Well next time, use that brain of yours and _do_ think about it."

Then the hitter headed away leaving Hardison standing silently, shoulders slumped, head down, as he swore to himself he wouldn't make that mistake again.


	38. A House is Not a Home

**A House is Not a Home**

Parker had lived in houses before. Lots of them, over the years. Sooner or later, she always either was forced or decided to leave.

But when they had to blow up the L.A. offices, and again when they said goodbye to Nate's apartment and McRory's, it felt different. She didn't know why, except that this time she didn't _want_ to go away.

It took a while for the brew pub to start to feel like their other offices, and she didn't want it to feel like them, anyway.

It wasn't until she mentioned it to Sophie that the woman blinked, giving Parker that confused glance, then waved over Eliot. The hitter arrived, eyebrow raised, mixing something in a bowl all the while.

"I need to get to the theater," Sophie explained, pulling on her coat. "Could you explain to Parker the difference between a house and a home?"

That led to an Eliot-look that Parker had never seen before. Part exasperation, a dash of sadness, and a whole lot of puzzlement. But when the grifter sauntered away, her heels clicking across the floor loudly, Eliot dutifully turned to face Parker, who watching him expectantly.

He sighed, then stuck the bowl and whisk on the counter, before leaning across to face the thief, before explaining that a house was a place you lived, and a home was the people in your life.

Parker considered that for a few minutes, then it clicked. All the places she lived growing up, and all her warehouses - those were _houses_. But the Leverage offices and McRory's, and now this place, they were _home _because they were where she had Eliot and Hardison and Sophie and Nate. Those were _home_ because she _wanted_ to be there, because she felt safe and happy and could spend time in the vents without anyone saying anything mean, or hide different lockpicks or money here and not have to worry the team would steal it if they found it. This was _home_ because she could leave Bunny here, because the team was her family and family took care of each other.


End file.
